Originally posted by MistressofSnape
Regular boring days
make us change
our regular boring ways
into falling leaves of atumn
old and yellowed
ready to be renewedalas... another product of boredom...but it sounds...kinda good
Another version...
Regular boring ways
make us change
our regular boring days
filled with
endless foggy gray
this one sounds even worse
Originally posted by MistressofSnape
um...okay.... 😑Stormy eyes look back into mine
remembering the days
long since blown away
into the never-endinding
blue of yesterday
and I like that little piece 😊
wow.. i haven't posted in so long. It seems i've been suffering from some serious writer's block. Nothing would come and so this sat and become kinda permanent until finally my teacher asigned us a poem to write and i came up with this.
a revised version of Dreams (which is on page 1)
I Wish
I wish
I could soar
Above the clouds
And fall back into fairyland
I wish
I was invisible
Taking a peek
At the secrets
Of the world
I wish
The stars and moon
Would dance
For me
Only me
I wish
I could hear
The trees whisper
To the wind
Telling their unheard secrets
I wish
Peole wouldn’t laugh
At the sight of me
And the world
Would be my plaything
I wish…
This I wrote because my sister wouldn't leave me alone.
Somewhere Your Not
I wanna be
Somewhere your not
Somewhere away from
Your curious stares,
Your well- meaning phase
Of wanting to be near me
Have you ever
Wanted to wash the day
Away?
Scrub it from your mind?
That’s how I felt today
Looking at you looking at me
Wanting to get away,
Get away to
Somewhere your not
This place has almost become
A necessity
A reassurance that I can
Escape from humanity
But this is
Almost insanity
For there is no place
Such as where I want to be
Somewhere your not
Writer’s Block
Today
Staring at the blank screen
The little black cursor blinking,
Innocently
As if waiting,
Waiting for me
To put words to the jumbled
Mess in my head
But the words are eluding me
Just out of my reach
The keys upon the board
Are lonely, without sound
No click-clack of them singing
With joy
For there is only agony
Of trying to wrie
What seemed so easy
Just moments before
Now cursing the dreaded
Writer’s block
true story...